Just Once More
by magiknight
Summary: Written for the HSN DHr fic exchange: She came here every year just to remember. Never realising she isn't alone. Ok this is my story. Dont know who the diary story belonged to or how it got published under my name.


**Author:** magiknight  
**Title: Just Once More**  
**Rating:** G  
**Author's Notes:** I tried for fluffy , honest, best I could do was a sorta happy ending.

Thank you nif for the beta and not killing me over typos.

**For Justamuggle**

STORY REQUEST  
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive: Somewhere close to a lake, fluff, and brooms. Preferably post-Hogwarts, but does not have to be.  
What rating would you prefer? Anything is fine  
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Draco or Hermione with anyone else or rape  
**Summary: **She came here every year just to remember. Never realising she isn't alone.

Hermione gazed out at the calm water, pristine and still it reflected the clear night sky above. Every year she found here way her on this night, mourning those who fell. Mourning the loss of the Golden Trio, forever gone. Mourning her own death as well. Nothing is golden when your alone. They were supposed to succeed or die together. They promised to never leave her. Caught between grief and anger, silent tears stained pale cheeks. The first few years after Voldemort's defeat she tried to die, willing herself to simply fade away. She didn't work, didn't eat. Sleep was plagued with nightmares, Hermione woke up drenched in sweat, the smell of blood still fresh in her mind. Even books had lost their magic, the feeling that she betrayed her friends every time she found herself enjoying anything. Every night was spent in silent prayer, begging for the strength to end it all. Weak. She was broken and not even brave enough to follow them into the next life. She found herself hating those around her, angry they had survived when Harry and Ron had not. The victory celebration.. she had ended up leaving before she gave into the urge and burned the whole building down. How dare they laugh and sing when she had lost _everything._

The few friends she had left soon began distancing themselves from her, not knowing how to help her, unwilling to relive the pain of death she wore around her like a shroud. Hermione the Hermit. Ghosting the halls of Black Manor, left to her by Harry, refusing to change anything.

Harry and Ron's brooms still propped in the corner by the entery way. Ron's unfinished homework, parchment brittle from age, still spread out over the kitchen table. Harry's cloak thrown acrossed the arm of an old chair. Her penance for living was to not live at all. She fancied that she did die that fateful night, her body just didn't realise it yet. One moment her heart was heavy with despair and the next she felt dizzy, gasping as the ground rushed up at her, Hermione Granger, last surviving member of the Golden Trio,lost consciousness

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He watched her. He was always watching. Since he had stumbled acrossed her the first anniversary of the Dark Lord's death, he too came to the lake just to see her and watch from afar. He noticed how thin and pale she had become, if not for the color of her hair she could be mistaken for one of the many ghosts haunting the school grounds. She was fading right before his eyes. He kept trying to find the strong willed woman who stood up for everything she believed in, hoping year after year she would return. She had asked him once why he had switched sides. He was too afraid to admit it had been for her. In school she had stood out like a shining beakon, refuting every thing he had been brought up to believe. Loving and perfect, she had excelled at everything despite her blood, or maybe even because of it. He realised, as he matured, that he was in love. From that first year, seeing her defiant and glorious on the steps next to Potter, and even now as she stood just out of reach, tragic and beautiful. So every year he found himself here, telling himself he had to see her one last time. Once again he stood out of sight, barely breathing for fear she might notice him, watching her in silence, wishing he could make it all right in her world.

He thought his heart might stop as he watched her fall to the ground. She couldn't die, she was his life. Broom forgotten on the ground next to him, Draco rushed over and gathered the unconscious woman into his arms. He almost fainted himself as relief washed over him. She was still breathing. He held her close, she weighted almost nothing, bones sharp under taunt skin, she hadn't been eating for a long while now. The bags under her eyes revealing how little she was sleeping. Exhaustion, poor nutrition, and heart ache had finally forced her body and mind to give in.With a loud pop they both disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a slight imprint in the wet grass.

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Hermione felt drugged. Sluggish, mind still fogged from sleep, a wrongness in her surroundings slowly began to penetrate. For one she was warm, not curled up in the fetal position, shivering in the old chair of a drafty castle, clutching Harry's cloak. Fighting off the first hints of panic she opened her eyes. The room was warmly lit by the near by fire place. Silken bed hangings surrounded her, casting a dream like quality on room. Her body, for the first time in 4 years, was with out pain. She eyes went wide with shock as she came to the only conclusion she had left.

"I'm dead.", she whispered, voice husky from lack of use. The thought didn't fill her with the peace she had been longing for, instead she was afraid.

"No, your not. Although, as the years roll by, it has become more and more difficult to tell the difference." Draco stood up from the arm chair that had hidden him from her veiw. Walking over to the bed he pulled back the curtain and simply looked upon her. Cruelty, his only defence against her, a last ditch effort to see the spark of something in her eyes, even anger. "Death, is that truly your wish? Has the Insurmountable Know-It-All finally given up on everything?" She didn't know what to say. The anguish in his eyes and behind that the compassion, something she felt she no longer deserved, had robbed her of any retort she might make. After a few moments of awkward silence she spoke, saying more at once then she had in a long time.

"I have not given up on anything. I merely have nothing left to believe in." Hermione closed her eyes against the harsh truth. "My dreams, my heart, my soul all died with _them_. I am a walking corpse that just doesn't know enough to stop breathing. Why? Why couldn't you just leave me there to die? Wasn't that victory enough over me.. to see me humbled and broken on the ground before you? You felt the need to bring me here to gloat as well." The last was spoken as a statement. Draco clsoed his eyes, he knew now that only the truth might shock her back into this world, or if she did manage to follow those that died he needed her know before it was too late.

"I used to close my eyes and picture your face, those years I spent as a spy. During the endless tortures, the death, when I couldn't even forgive myself for the atrocities I had to commit for the sake of not giving away my cover, when I would think that nothing was worth the pain, I would think of you. I would see you sitting at headquarters, curled up with some book. Your face would glow with innocence as you lost yourself in the pages and I would endure anything to get back and watch you like that just once more. Just once more, I would chant that in my mind over and over again like a mantra. It gave me the strength to do it all. Why didn't I leave you to die? Easy, if you die then I have nothing left to live for. And maybe I needed to see your face light up with something other then pain and self loathing.. just once more." He knew he had said too much. He had given himself away, showing the one person who could crush him the only weakness he allowed himself admit.

" I can't.. I don't deserve.." What ever she was about to say was lost as she gave into the pain. Broken sobs wracked her fragile body as Draco gathered her into his arms once again. Hermione allowed him to hold her as she clung to him, accepting the comfort of another for the first time. She held on to him as if she were afraid to let go, afraid that if she broke contact for even a second he would disappear like every one else. It wasn't love, yet. He knew the road would be long and hard, but for now Hermione clung to Draco as if he were her everthing and he revelled in it.

Unseen by the man and woman on the bed stood two teenage men. Translucent, one was thin and bespectacled. The other tall and gangly. They looked at one another and smiled, then slowly faded away to nothing, secure in the knowledge that their loved one had finally begun to heal.

Fin


End file.
